


The Color of Your Soul

by verilymerrily



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verilymerrily/pseuds/verilymerrily
Summary: It was another peaceful night in Amaurot, and you still haven't heard the news of a certain someone's appointment as Emet-Selch. Inspired by the official story "Through his Eyes". SPOILERS FOR PATCH 5.3 (don't read if you haven't finished the MSQ!!)
Relationships: 14th Member of the Convocation of Fourteen/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Emet, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	The Color of Your Soul

Another peaceful evening descends upon Amaurot, the largest city on the star. The soft light of the lamp posts illuminates its many corners, while its citizens, all dressed in long, identical black robes, stroll carelessly along the wide arteries of the gleaming capital. 

Everyone is enjoying this moment of twilight to their heart's content, whether engaging in long philosophical discussions with a friend or retreating to their comfy homes for a good night's rest.

Everyone but you and your team, it would seem, as you wipe the sweat from your forehead, letting out a frustrated sigh. Before turning around to address your expectant assistants, you place your mask back over the top half of your face and adjust your cowl.

“Alright. Let’s give it one more try.”

Your assistants nod and obediently place themselves around the huge metallic box that rests ominously at the center of the Chamber of Dismantling, each guarding one side of the container while you purposefully place yourself right in the front. That you should be at this late hour of the night getting ready for another round of intense work is a testament that, unlike what most people believe, Amaurot is actually _not_ a city of perfect citizens and exclusively delightful creations, its proud inhabitants having more in common with the people from the outer provinces than they’d ever like to admit. 

Still, you gather your resolve and prepare yourself for what’s inside the box, because it is your _job_. To let the people of Amaurot live their lives happily and undisturbed is one of the main roles of a Warden; to maintain the peace, harmony and fairness that ensure the proper environment for the greatest Creators the world has ever seen.

“On my mark,” you nod to your chief assistant and he delivers the orders to the rest of your team. There’s only four of you tonight to try and successfully neutralize the rampaging entity contained within the box, the stray creation of an unruly Amaurotine who refused to submit his original concept to the Bureau of the Architect, and for a good reason: his creation possessed the unnatural ability to corrupt other arcane entities to its own will, causing a great amount of chaos in one of the outer suburbs of the city. Your colleagues from the Iustitia took care of the prankster, and of course the Bureau of the Administrator swiftly prevented the news from spreading, but it now fell to you and your team to get rid of the troublesome entity and salvage anything you deemed relevant for further research, by any means necessary. _And we’re already running out of tricks with this one,_ you think, feeling the pressure.

Once again, you close your eyes and concentrate. Slowly, your breath comes to a steady, relaxed rhythm as little by little you shift your focus from your exhausted body to the spark of light that slowly but surely grows within you. Unlike your friend Hythlodaeus, who could distinguish at a mere glance between the true essence and the appearance of all things, or Hades, who thanks to his extraordinary gift could harness the power of the Underworld itself, your talent is quite inconspicuous in comparison, though by no means less spectacular. You have no need for flashy transformations to show-off your power; all you need to do is go _inside_ …

A slight smile appears on your lips as you finally _feel_ it, the aether all around you flowing in gentle, steady streams onto you, mingling in playful swirls with your own essence in an aetherial dance that soon becomes a whirlwind of light, right at the very core of your soul. Allowing yourself to briefly enjoy the sensation of being one with your surroundings, you extend your aethereal arms and reach out, far, far away from Amaurot, beyond the sea and engulfing the entire star. You _become_ pure light, and for a moment, you bask in the realization of how much you really love this world and its myriad forms of life. 

Ah, the beauty of it! You can’t help but admire the sheer diversity of all things, and before you can stop yourself, a recurring thought finds its way into your consciousness.

_I wish I could see it all..._

You stop it right there; that was too dangerous a thought for one in your position. Having been born in one of the far provinces surrounding Amaurot, your early education was never quite so uniform and community driven as that of your Amaurotine friends, and you guessed it was only natural that you would long for the carefree days of your past. Still, you should know better by now; you’re a warden of Amaurot and your place is beneath its walls.

Concentrating once again, you wait for a few seconds before finally opening your eyes, determined. You feel renewed, your bruises completely healed, your exhaustion evaporated; and above all, you feel _strong_ , the light within you raging like a storm. Being able to harness the surrounding aether is not a rare talent by any means - after all, it is the natural ability that allows your kind to use the powers of Creation. Making it your own, on the other hand, is a very, _very_ rare talent among your people, granting you levels of endurance and resilience some would say border on pure stubbornness.

“Now!”

At your signal, your assistants let the walls of the metallic box come tumbling down, releasing the iridescent being contained within. Enraged, the creature immediately expands to enormous proportions and suddenly lashes at you, taking your assistants by surprise, but this time you just stand there, a confident smile on your lips.

The light flares within you as you summon aether to your fingertips, and this time, you know _exactly_ what to do...

*** *** *** 

Moments later, you stand alone in the Chamber of Dismantling, your assistants already gone. You should go home as well, but it’s never easy letting go of this feeling… Every time you commune with the surrounding aether it’s like the star itself whispered words of love and encouragement to you, like a mother tending to a very special child, and though you know you shouldn’t dwell on this sensation, it feels so disturbingly _right…_ Sighing, you walk towards your work table and examine the glass recipient that contains the essence of the arcane entity you recently neutralized. You look at the product of long hours of work and nod approvingly; the scholars at the Akadaemia will surely find a good use for this peculiar essence, and the people of Amaurot will get to live another day untroubled.

Yawning, you walk past your desk towards the chamber door, and notice a red envelope on top of piles of papers, memos and all sorts of documents. _News from the Convocation…_ You vaguely remember that at some point during the day, a clerk poked her head through the door to deliver your mail, but you barked your orders to not be disturbed under any circumstances, while trying to release one of your assistant’s legs from the firm grip of the creature you were battling at the moment. You sigh; you know you probably should pay more attention to office work, but you’re just so _tired_ right now, the after effects of using large amounts of aether weighing heavily on your body. 

_If it’s anything really important, I’ll find out soon enough_ , you decide, and happily turn off the lamps in your office before closing the door behind you, only to find a familiar figure waiting for you just outside, resting against a pillar with his arms crossed, a bored expression on his masked face.

You do a double take; you definitely know that man, but the bright red mask he’s wearing comes as a big shock to you.

"Hades? W- _What?_ " 

"You seem surprised," he says with a sly smile. "Didn't you get the memo?"

Your memory flashes briefly back towards the red envelope resting on top of the huge pile that is your mail, and you bite your lower lip, guiltily. Maybe you _should_ read your messages from time to time. He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"Ah, well. I guess there's no point dragging this any longer." He clears his throat before continuing, and you catch a glimpse of a blush under his red mask. “I've been appointed Emet-Selch,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Hythlodaeus rejected the office, so _of course_ they came running after me to offer the position. To be honest, I don't know if I should feel proud or embarrassed about this...”

“Emet-Selch…” you repeat the words in an astonished whisper, opening your eyes wide. "You've been summoned to the Convocation of Fourteen!"

He shrugs. “I thought you’d know already, all things considered. The wardens are, after all, under my overall supervision.”

If your head felt a bit dizzy with the weight of the recent news, this last little piece of information felt like a splash of cold water. Hades… lazy, insufferably talented Hades, your _superior…_

“More importantly,” he continues, changing the subject. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you? And don’t get me started on the chain of events that led me here. I was happily resting at the Polyleritae Park when _someone_ just decided to stop by and ruin a perfect moment of contemplation.”

You chuckle. “So, Hythlodaeus is to blame for your angry mood?”

" _Always_ . Anyway, he tricked me into working in one of his usual _boring_ experiments and I ended up totally exhausted, and _then_ he just casually mentioned that you’ve been all day shut in your office.” He theatrically places one hand on his chin, as if he were deeply in thought, and you mentally prepare for the rest of the story. “At such a peculiar piece of news, curiosity got the best of me, I must confess. How do you contain such a hurricane like yourself inside an office for so long? You can well imagine my surprise after long hours of observation, when I realized that you and your minions had decided to waste your lives at this job!"

"Hardly a waste of our lives if the citizens of this lovely city get to live another day in peace," you lecture him playfully.

"Spoken like a true warden," he mocks you, wrinkling his nose. "Spare me. You look terrible, by the way."

Suddenly self-conscious, you notice for the first time that your black robes are wrinkled and covered in soot and dirt, one sleeve burnt and the other partially reduced to shreds. 

"It’s… it's been a busy day…" you try to explain yourself, but he just rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers, fixing your robes in an instant. You sigh, defeated.

"I reckon to this day you already owe me a full wardrobe of new clothes," he teases you.

"I’ll make sure to send a box full of robes to the Capitol. Whenever I get the time.” 

Too exhausted to engage further in this friendly banter, you simply walk past, motioning him to follow you down the long, empty hallway. He sighs dramatically, but follows you obediently.

“Your assistants left long ago,” he observes as you walk. “What took _you_ so long?”

“Administrative work,” you lie bluntly; you certainly don’t feel like talking about the star’s aether beckoning to you, _especially_ not to him. “You know how it is; for every troublesome creation we receive, there’s a mountain of papers I have to sign.”

“I see,” he muses, and you’re not sure if he actually bought the lie, his expression unreadable behind his brand-new mask.

As the two of you walk down the hallway towards the building entrance, you notice your colleagues saluting him respectfully, increasing the awkwardness of the situation. He groans under his breath.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this… _reverence_."

You chuckle."Hythlodaeus really played you well this time, didn't he?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he painted a colorful image of my talents just to avoid his appointment."

You smile. "That's not fair. You truly deserve this, and you know that. Congratulations, Emet-Selch."

“Please, don’t do that,” he interrupts you.

You look at him, puzzled. “Don’t do what, exactly?”

“Emet-Selch.” He glances at you, and you notice a strange melancholy in his golden eyes. “You… you don’t need to call me that.”

  
  


*** *** *** 

The fresh breeze of an early spring evening softly plays with your robes as you walk together on the quiet streets of Amaurot. Most of the citizens have already retired to their homes by now, and for a moment you stop and close your eyes, silently revelling in the peaceful atmosphere around you.

You hear him chuckling next to you. “Seeing you like this, so calm and still, I feel like I could almost ignore the raging storm that is your soul.”

“I’ve always wondered what color your eyes see,” you say, pointedly ignoring his remark. “Hythlodaeus told me once that my soul seemed rather yellowish to him.”

“ _Yellowish?_ ” he spats, deeply offended. “You should know better than to ask him for such subtleties; our friend is very talented in many aspects, but he most definitely lacks a sense of _poetry_. Maybe it is for the better that he rejected the Convocation’s offer, now that I think about it.”

You shake your head and smile. This amiable competition between your closest friends have lasted for longer than you can remember, and it seems to you that it’s been ages since Hythlodaeus first dragged you and Hades into a reluctant camaraderie.

“Either way, you’ve never told me what color you see,” you turn to look at him and notice that he seems a bit uncomfortable. 

“I pride myself in distinguishing even the most subtle differences in people’s souls, but some things are difficult to express with mere words.” He shrugs. “Simply said, if I can’t fully describe it, I can’t be bothered to explain what I see.”

You raise an eyebrow; _of course_ he wouldn’t bother, and you hope the Convocation knows what they are getting into with his appointment as Emet-Selch.

Shortly later, your steps lead you to the small plaza near the Polyleritae District, where the flowering trees and beautifully adorned arches and pillars embellish the already magnificent view of the city, the Capitol building towering at the far end of the avenue. The Bureau of the Architect is just a few blocks away and you notice Hades absent-mindedly looking in its general direction.

“He’s gonna be alright,” you reassure him. “To tell you the truth, I think it’s about time the two of you learned to walk in your own, separate ways.”

He lowers his head, and even though his hood is covering most of his face, you notice that something seems to be bothering him.

“Yes,” he finally says, rather miserably. “I guess everything will change from now on.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” you chuckle. “As Emet-Selch, you will be entitled to drop by to check on the architects and the wardens whenever you want, so we’re not getting rid of you quite yet.”

“But you won’t be here anymore, will you?”

Taken aback, you can't find any words to answer his question, and as he turns to look at you, you notice the turmoil of emotions in his golden eyes.

“I read your application,” he says, and suddenly everything makes sense. “It was one of the first things we discussed once they’d appointed me. They mean to grant you permission to leave.”

Your heart beats quickly in your chest and suddenly you feel very nervous. Is he saying the truth? You’ve been waiting for this for so long... 

He lowers his head and averts his eyes. “I didn't want to come and see you,” he confesses. “Call me childish or even spiteful, but it was only because of Hythlodaeus that I’m here. I’m glad that I did, though; I understand everything better now.”

“Hades…” 

He signals for you to wait and smiles. “You don’t belong here, trapped beneath Amaurot’s walls. You belong out there, under the sun, the very stars as your guidance. I can see that now.” 

“You’ve always said that everything I need to know is right here, in the city,” you remind him, hesitantly.

He snorts. “As if anyone could really hold you back. You’re like a force of nature, there’s no taming your free spirit. It’s about time I stop trying.”

You lower your eyes; it’s all you’ve ever wanted, being granted permission to join the few travelling wardens who roam the star, helping people, listening to their problems, so they could be presented later to the governing authorities in Amaurot. You might even go back to your hometown, see the mountains that watched you grow, feel the grass on your feet, maybe even shed the mask and recover your sense of individuality, if only for a little while. 

But you would be leaving so many things behind, and your heart feels heavier than you ever expected, now that the possibility is real and Hades is standing next to you.

These feelings… they were never part of the plan.

“There’s something else,” he says, lowering his voice. “I know you couldn’t care less about this kind of things, but your permission will be granted not just because of your plea; they mean to prepare Azem’s successor.”

You look at him sharply. “What in the Underworld are you talking about?”

He laughs out loud and you wonder if he didn’t just do as Hythlodaeus, painting a colorful image of _your_ talents to play you some sophisticated prank. “I swear I had nothing to do with this!” he says, perfectly able to read your thoughts after all these years. “But I wish I did, if only to see your face right now!” 

“The venerable Azem is not going anywhere anytime soon,” you chastise him, stubbornly. “The Chief will be staying on that seat for many more years, and we wardens would rather have her around for a lot longer.”

"Well, actually, that’s up to her to decide,” he observes calmly. “But if anyone should join the Convocation of Fourteen, that's definitely you. You have proven your talent and commitment to our star time and time again, it baffles me that your nomination has taken so long."

"So… a period of training and preparation, then…” you ponder, the implication of Hades’ words finally downing onto you.

“That’s exactly right. Not that you need it, mind you.”

You smile; this evening has delivered surprise after surprise, Hades’ skilfully hidden compliments not the least of them.

As you enter even deeper into the night, you both remain silently contemplating the stars above. You know that he’s most likely focusing on the aether currents that his eyes so marvellously can distinguish, but your eyes just can’t stop admiring the myriad dots of light shining far above in the firmament, and you wonder where will you be standing the next time you look at these constellations.

"Bright white," he says, suddenly. 

You turn to look at him. "What?"

"Bright white," he repeats, "with a golden hue swirling around the edges. It's so bright it's almost incandescent, so full of light that it warms the very soul to just look at it, like the sun shining up in the sky." He closes his eyes and lays his head back, reminiscent. "I can even picture it with my eyes closed, so distinctive its color that I could recognize it _anywhere_ , even in the far depths of the Underworld."

When he opens his eyes and looks at you, your heart skips a beat at the intensity of his golden gaze. "Your soul… it's the most beautiful color my eyes have ever seen."

You open your mouth to try and say something witty, but find yourself at a loss for words, your cheeks burning red under your mask. He smiles fondly.

"When you have travelled to every corner of this world and seen all of its wonders, when you have shared with its people all of your light, your joy, your hopes… When you have learned everything you wanted to learn, helped everyone who needed to be helped; when you have sated your _hunger_ for this star and filled yourself with its enormous diversity… When you decide it's time to come back to Amaurot one day… I will be right here, waiting for you. I promise."

Suddenly, tears start falling down your cheeks unrestrained, and you remove your mask in an unsuccessful attempt to wipe them, an intimate gesture that feels so logical next to him, so _natural_.

"I… I won’t take too long,” you say, reassuring him just as much as yourself. "And I will call for you if I ever get into trouble, Hythlodaeus too… I…”

Your heart races in your chest as he moves closer to you, slowly removing his mask.

“Doesn’t matter how long,” he whispers, tenderly wiping your tears and leaning over you. “I will be waiting…”

As you close your eyes and feel his lips grazing yours, you hear him whisper deep within your soul.

“I love you, ---”

  
  


*** *** ***

You wake up in the twilight, feeling hot and with your legs tangled in the bedsheets. Disoriented for a few seconds, you don't recognize this place at first; this is definitely _not_ your bed, though the surroundings look so familiar…

 _Mor Dhona_. Of course. You're back in the Scions headquarters in the Source. It's been a while since you rested in this particular place, so it's no wonder you felt lost for a moment.

What were you dreaming about? Try as you might, you can't really remember, but you can still hear the faint echo of a whispered name, the actual words totally lost to you.

_Remember that we once lived._

Emet-Selch's last words to you. Ever since you defeated the Ascian, you know you've been having long dreams almost every night, but it's like your mind can't handle the truths revealed in them. 

You look out the window and see that it’s still very early in the morning, but something tells you that there’s a certain young miqo’te already up and eager to go on your first adventure together. You smile; you feel tired and sleepy, but you certainly wouldn’t make G’raha wait for too long.

As you put on your clothes and get ready to leave your quarters, you notice Azem’s crystal resting atop your night table. Carefully taking it in your hands, you remember the words spoken in the ancient language when it was activated.

_Where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow…_

Emet-Selch’s parting gift for you; the defector of the Convocation of Fourteen was not supposed to be remembered, but clearly he believed otherwise, passing onto you the memories of the person you used to be, back in the times of Amaurot.

You close your eyes and smile fondly, placing the crystal in the safety of your pocket before turning to leave. 

The rains had ceased and you had been graced with another beautiful day; it was time to take your dear friends - all of them - with you on your next adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story a long time ago, after reading "Through his Eyes". I wondered: why didn't Hades want to personally tell the WoL about his appointment? And so, I wrote down some ideas that I never bothered to publish. Then patch 5.3 arrived and the overall idea of the travelling WoL was confirmed, so I found the inspiration and motivation I needed to finally finish this story. Also, we finally have the name of the 14th member of the Convocation, yay!  
> As always, thank you for reading!


End file.
